Two works as catalysts
Angel Olsen “My Woman” (Jagjaguar)
The third studio album by Olsen is the St. Louis-born artist’s proverbial great leap forward, confirming her as not only a powerful singer but a writer more than willing to play with genre, mood and words to achieve her particular brand of convergence.
Connecting country, folk, rock and pop music, the increasingly restless artist on “My Woman” sings with the confidence of a 1950s rockabilly chanteuse but does so minus any anachronism or throwback nostalgia. On Monday, Olsen played the first single, “Shut Up Kiss Me,” on “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert,” and did so with a backing band that added a heaviness On “Heart Shaped Face,” the singer sustains her notes with the pitch-perfect tone of a Steinway. The album’s seven-minute centerpiece, “Sister,” is a ballad that gradually and gracefully gathers energy and volume until it boils with dueling guitar solos, before cooling to an even simmer.
Moses Sumney “Worth It” video
The Los Angeles-based singer and songwriter Moses Sumney has been building the foundation of a fascinating career for the last half decade. For reasons baffling and frustrating, though, he’s never delivered that elusive one jam — the breakout work that exposes his musical strengths to the masses.
Asked by a fan via his website when to expect a full album, Sumney evaded the question with a non sequitur: “Did anyone try the chicken? I thought the chicken was lovely!”
“Worth It” suggests that Sumney should get it done. A mesmerizing song that features nearly as much empty space as it does sound, its slithering vocal melody is filtered through AutoTune until the line between man and machine is rendered moot. Guitar? Nope. Nor is there much in the way of anything except a kick drum and finger snaps.
The video, directed by Avvie Avital, is equally striking. Sumney exudes charisma, and the director harnesses it by focusing on him in close-up.
The arrival of an eyeless nude woman turns the clip spooky, as does the intensity of Sumney’s gaze. At times he’s so tight in the frame that he plays with the viewer by reaching out to poke the lens, which causes a subtle ripple that suggests Sumney’s penetrated the barrier separating time and space.